Chapter Text
The first time it happened was shortly after his 'promotion' as 'substitute director' of Laplace Scientific Computing Centre, in his cluttered office, proposals and budgets and budget proposals piled high enough to replace the legs of a desk, on a standard, quiet, normal afternoon. By almost every definition of the word, it had been, and was supposed to be, a completely ordinary day.
He had known that bearing the mantle of 'director' came with a substantial workload, composed almost entirely of mundane admistrative paperwork and little practical research. What he hadn't known was to what extent he would need to dedicate his precious working hours to debating with researchers, eager to temporarily pursue an career in marketing, about ludicrous budget requests for their next insane project. With the Foundation already not taking Laplace seriously, having to wrestle between maintaining a semblance of functional, useful, operations to the higher-ups, and actually standing by his colleagues in upholding the spirit and integrity of the LSCC was a daunting task that he will, without hesitation, claim to be above his pay grade. He was still a researcher, damn it! Why was he spending all day explaining why the proposal for a 'pill that will make people very moody' was rejected.
It was to be expected then, that one of these days, a certain cryptography lead would rudely push the door to his office open wider than at all necessary, knocking down a column of books, then complain about the mess he had just added to. One of these days, the Awakened would hand Enigma a neatly organized manilla folder while going off about the intricacies of producing vinyl records, and the importance of having multiple redundancies in an experiment. One of these days, Enigma would flip open that manilla folder and read halfway into the fifth paragraph, where he would realize Ulrich was requesting one hundred thousand sharponties to pirate and reproduce one hundred one-of-a-kind, limited edition, not even from this fucking era, copies of a vinyl record he had borrowed from someone on the Timekeeper's team.
Gott hilf mir.
"I'm going to stop you right there, Ulrich." Enigma interrupted, his eyes closed and fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. He sighed, "You can't possibly expect me to approve this ridiculous misuse of our funds."
"What? Why not?" The ferrofluid has the gall to form a distinctly surprised shape, like this outcome had been entirely unexpected.
"Geht's noch- What in the world do you need a hundred records for!" He can feel the foreboding onset of a migraine already and, in a way, it only added to the guise of a normal day; crazy budget proposals, a gnawing desire to punch Ulrich, the headaches. All he needed now was an incident report so specifically Laplace to complete the checklist of a normal day as 'substitute director'.
"If you'd actually read the my proposal and listened to what I had been explaining earlier," Ulrich pressed the folder onto the desk, gloved fingers tapping on the page, "one hundred is my conservative estimate plus redundancies needed. This project could be instrumental to the 'Storm' research! I need to take every precaution into account."
"Even if we ignored your ridiculous hypothesis that vintage records will be our solution to the 'Storm', there is just no way I can approve this request!" He pulled the sheet of paper from beneath Ulrich's finger and held it up to eye level. In the same patronizing manner his peer had used earlier, he tapped on the offending figure. "A hundred thousand! Hunderttausend! Thats- 11000011010100000!"
"Wh-! I don't think you understand. Give me that- Adler!" He only narrowly avoided colliding with Ulrich practically pouncing over the desk to snatch the proposal back into his hands. "-this section here- it details-! Are you even listening?!"
Enigma pushed Ulrich back by his tank, ignoring his indignant protests, and resolutely shoved the manilla folder and all its content into the robotic body's chest. "I've heard enough to know I won't approve this. You either make revisions to your plan or wait until Saint Nimmerleinstag- ghk!"
Up until that point, it had been an enitrely, completely ordinary day. If the work wasn't so mentally exhaustive he might even go so far as to call it a boring day. If you were to look at him through a pinhole and squint, the days he currently lived didn't look all too different from his days of retreating into isolation and depression. Only, instead of crosswords puzzles and sudoku, it was email correspondence and evaluation reports, and instead of collapsing on the small leather couch whenever fatigue took over, he passes out at his desk, then add a bunch of unnecessary social interactions, endless more mandatory meetings... He supposes things have indeed changed a lot. Though the heart of it remained the same; day in and day out, drowning in mindless busywork was he, be it to stave off the the madness of a world order destroyed, or to run the cogs of the machine trying its hardest to restore it. Whatever framework of normalcy he held back then, should still hold up now.
This framework, however, did not accurately account for arcane 'irrationality', and more specifically, did not accurately account for Awakened arcane 'irrationality'.
Ulrich had firmly grabbed him by the wrist, the god forsaken folder dropping to the ground a breath later. This time the ferrofluid formed an stern circle when he spoke again, "I don't enjoy having to repeat myself, Adler. I'm asking you to thoroughly read and consider my proposal, instead of gawking at the numbers."
But Enigma didn't hear a word he said, nor was he considering anything other than the gloved hands resting directly on his wrist. He gawked at the area of contact. Ulrich's hands were... well, they weren't exactly warm, as any heat his body created dissipated before it reached his fingers. Nevertheless, the skin where the human and the extention of the Awakened met was blazing hot, his arm felt hot, as a matter of fact his swore his whole body felt hot, he could feel his face heating uncomfortably. His breath shallowed at the realization.
"You're being uncharacteristically quiet. Or have you finally understood the importance of this project?" Despite having made his point, Ulrich kept his hand on Enigma's wrist, pushing them away from his chest. He pressed down on a pulse point so suddenly Enigma almost jumped out of his own skin. "Adler? Don't tell me you've zoned out mid conversation. We still have to go over the finer details!"
The human finally averted his eyes from his hand, peering from behind his hair at the glass tank before him. Hesitantly, Enigma shifted his wrist, still under Ulrich's grasp, though couldn't commit to fully tugging away. So they just stood in silence connected at the middle where strangely, neither felt the rush to move first. Then he thinks to himself a bit absurdly that if were to pull his arm back a little more, he would end up comfortably holding the other's hand. It was a very enticing thought, one that caused a full body tremor to rack through his very core.
He quickly sobered up when he felt the involuntary tug of his lips, pulling his face into an obscenely sincere smile. How bizarre. When was the last time he felt this content with something as simple and primitive as touch? It wasn't even real, genuine, human, touch. Uselessly he brought his other hand to his face, trying and failing to subtly hide the incriminating smile.
"I didn't realize you were going to literally hold my hand and talk me through your genius plan, Ulrich. Or is this part of your 'humanitarian care'?" Great, now he can attribute his smirk (it was a smirk, there is a difference) to him being his normal, sarcastic self. Still, if the Awakened wasn't about to release him, he wouldn't bring himself to break off the contact either. "Just- Let go. Verdammt," he muttered quietly.
Much to Enigma's bewilderment, Ulrich obliged with neither protest nor complaint, dropping his hand wordlessly and promptly reaching for the fallen folder. Gingerly rubbing the affected area of his wrist, Enigma wondered if there would ever be a scenario where this series of events could happen again. His own hand, much warmer and softer than Ulrich', was a shoddy substitute for the real thing. If he wasn't already horrified by this train of thought, he would have laughed at the ironic conclusion.
"You know," the Awakened eventually started, his cadence of mechanical ease not lost on Enigma's ears, "if I weren't already busy with my current schedule, I could lend you a hand and lessen your workload."
A rather hasty change of topic, one that the head of Laplace latched onto in similar haste. "How generous of you. I'll be sure to thank you by thinking about how grateful I am."
"I'm being serious, researcher Adler."
Slightly offended, serious, and in a tone so, very earnest. Adler was forced to face the ferrofluid, not bothering to hide his bafflement.
Ulrich crossed he arms as he continued, "It's clear you're not handling the change in position or increased workload well, which is an expected outcome. You're only a human, after all."
Of course, a sour reminder of his lackluster performance, and a jab at his humaness. Enigma was not sure what else he had expected.
"But," the Awakened added, having noticed his grimace, "Madame Lucy set an impossible standard, one I'm sure no one will even come close to reaching. So- all variables accounted for and all things considered," he reached towards Enigma, fingers outstretched before faltering briefly, then finally firmly patting him on the arm, "I'd say you've been doing a fairly adequate job."
Adler knew he was leaning slightly into the touch. He replied as he normally would anyway. "Tck, someone had to make sure we're on the right track."
"Well, it doesn't have to be a task you shoulder alone," Ulrich replied matter-of-factly. He gathered the folder and papers on their vertices to align them, then headed for the door. "Once I've properly revised this, I'll be happy to handle some especially draining paperwork while I wait for the funds to come through."
Absurdity after absurdity. In what world would Ulrich offer to do paperwork he wasn't responsible for? But when he thought about it again, he was left with no room for ambiguity; the lead cryptographer was not the kind to offer hollow pleasantries, nor was he someone who valued his own comfort over the health and wellbeing of his coworkers, if it meant improved team synergy and efficiency. He had said that he would help, and he had meant every word. Adler could feel himself smiling again. This time he didn't try to stifle it.
"I'll have to save the worst ones for you then, Ulrich, assuming you ever manage to write a reasonable proposal. "
It wasn't until hours after Ulrich had left his office, presumably to pen a new and no less ridiculous request, that Enigma feels the extent of that day's irregularity. He felt an unusual, but not unwelcome, almost airy lightness. The work continued to be grueling, but he found it in him to chuckle when he read through the incident report regarding the many beagles that briefly ran the biology department out of their own labs. And when the rock pirate started blasting a song in the hallway outside his office, he didn’t hum along, but the tapping of his feet were on beat with the music.